


Contusion

by SinNotAlone



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Erotic Violence, M/M, Not very SSC or other acronyms, Spanking, Top Drop, mutilation fantasies but also feelings, takedown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinNotAlone/pseuds/SinNotAlone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux wants to destroy pretty things. The prettiest thing he’s ever seen is Kylo Ren’s face. </p><p>
  <i>It had been an accident, unfortunately. They’d been roughhousing, a tangle of sweaty limbs. It was like that sometimes, almost always if he was honest. Starting out slow, teasing scratches, fingers pinching little bits of flesh. The tender skin just below the crease of the thigh was a favored target. Soon becoming heated, teeth sharp on the join between shoulder and neck, a forearm against a trachea. Kylo’s hoarse voice goading him, “Make me.” The way Kylo almost fought back gave Hux palpitations.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been an accident, unfortunately. They’d been roughhousing, a tangle of sweaty limbs. It was like that sometimes, almost always if he was honest. Starting out slow, teasing scratches, fingers pinching little bits of flesh. The tender skin just below the crease of the thigh was a favored target. Soon becoming heated, teeth sharp on the join between shoulder and neck, a forearm against a trachea. Kylo’s hoarse voice goading him, “Make me.” The way Kylo almost fought back gave Hux palpitations.

He knew it was one of the ways Kylo dealt with it. He couldn’t just ask. Frank communication came as naturally to Kylo Ren as filial piety. He needed to prod, his little aggressions building, driving Hux mad. Until that was it. Until Hux was ready to physically assault him.

Things had begun that way too, shortly after Supreme Leader Snoke had assigned Hux to babysitting duty. Despite the fact that Kylo stormed out of most meetings involving Hux, he seemed unnecessarily tuned in to the General’s location aboard the Finalizer. Hux encountered him too often for the pure coincidence that Kylo attempted to play it off as. When forced to interact, Kylo made snide comments, mostly about Hux’s fastidious attention to his appearance—comments that made Hux realize Kylo was paying quite a lot of attention to the way he parted his hair.  

The first time he reprimanded Kylo he’d expected an outburst. After a particularly subpar report to Snoke, Kylo had proposed that Hux spend less time shining his boots and more helping him locate Skywalker. Hux had clenched his fists, repressing the urge to lash out. He thought of an equally immature retort about the deliberate travesty Kylo passed off as clothing, but he was an adult, unlike his charge.

Instead, he quipped, “Ren, it might benefit the Supreme Leader if you focused your energy on something more constructive than sartorial critiques.”

At that, Kylo, miraculously, had shut up, turned, and loped away. As Hux watched him go, he noticed that his arms were held close to his sides, shoulders set with tension. Hux imagined Kylo’s visor fogging as he tried to stop hyperventilating. He hadn’t said another word to Hux that week.

Hux was freer with his rejoinders after this initial success. Following Kylo’s next demolition of First Order property, Hux had cornered him and demanded he step inside the adjacent interrogation room to hash things out. He felt like a headmaster asking Ren to report to his office. He felt like it even more when Kylo sat facing him, awkwardly bunched up in a chair made for someone six inches shorter. His knees bounced with nervous energy, although much of his aggression appeared to have dissipated.

“So Ren, what’s it going to take?” Hux’s nostrils flared. “And take off that helmet when you’re addressing me.”

Kylo pressed the release for his helmet, and Hux remembered the first moment he’d seen Kylo unmasked. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, beady eyes and a cleft palate most likely. A monstrous exterior to match his rotten insides. Instead, Hux had forgotten to breath, just for a few seconds, as he drank in those plush lips and thick, lustrous hair.

It struck him again, as Kylo set the helmet aside, how unfair it was that such beauty came part and parcel with such a petulant attitude.  

“How about some competent stormtroopers?” Kylo smirked.

“That console was not in charge of personal management.”                  

“Then who is? You?” Kylo seemed to know just which buttons to push.

Hux slapped him. It was impulsive, and he instantly regretted letting his temper get the best of him. He also regretted that the gloves he wore prevented him from feeling the satisfying burn of a well-landed backhand.

Kylo sucked in a sharp breath as his head snapped right. He raised a hand and rubbed lightly at the mark blooming on his cheek. Kylo’s pallid skin provided the perfect canvas for the rose-red handprint.

A palpable tension accompanied the silence that followed. The longer it stretched, the more unbearable the buzzing machinations of the ship became. Two sets of pupils grew wide, hungry. Hux’s mouth gaped a little, tongue toying with the edge of his lip. He shut his eyes; he wasn’t going to let this escalate. His heart jolted when Kylo closed the distance between them.

The kiss was a mess of teeth at first, an animalistic battle for dominance. Hux tired quickly of Kylo’s posturing. He asserted his claim, sucking on Kylo’s bottom lip, then biting hard enough that Kylo recoiled, lip still trapped between sharp incisors. Hux stranded a hand through Kylo’s hair and held him in place as he licked deep into that soft mouth. Kylo seemed inexperienced, or perhaps just apprehensive. His mouth became slack as Hux explored him, and Hux found himself wondering just how often Kylo’d taken a passive role, if ever. 

He broke the kiss and pulled back to read Kylo’s face. The dull light of the interrogation room gave him a sallow look, and an overall flush had muted the impact of the earlier blow. Still, it was hard to draw his eyes away from that proud cheekbone, though kiss-bitten lips beckoned. Kylo’s mouth was damp and swollen and he seemed to be savoring the indentations Hux had left on his bottom lip, sucking at them slightly. The heat remained in his eyes, but it was combined with apprehension.

Hux tilted his head as he assessed the situation. “Is this what it’s going to take?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo rasped, shifting in his seat; all that bravado had fled. He folded his hands in his lap, wringing the leather of his gloves.

“Do you want to continue this. Yes or no, Ren. It’s a simple question.”

Kylo hesitated. He looked like he’d rather be fed to a rathtar than answer Hux’s question. With a deep sigh, he resigned himself to the awful fate of giving in to poorly-hidden desires, mumbling, “Yes.”

“OK.” Hux nodded. He felt like reaching for Kylo’s hand to shake on their truce. He could work with this. At the very least, some mutual stress relief would do the both of them good. With an outlet, Kylo might become less of a powder keg, and in turn, Hux might be able to stop grinding the enamel from his molars. It couldn’t be any more awkward than returning to the façade of mutual repulsion, with lust bubbling just below the surface.

The dalliance had formed a somewhat regular pattern from there, although the unpredictable nature of military life meant that exceptions were often the rule. When Kylo became intolerable, Hux suggested a date and a time, and unless a mission impeded him, Kylo never failed to show. It was the only meeting for which Kylo was punctual. While this punctuality implied an eagerness on Kylo’s part, it did not mean that he was pliant during the encounters.

And that was how Hux ended up with Kylo squirming on his back. The tussle had begun as soon as Kylo made it to his quarters; they never met in Kylo’s rooms. Hux barely had time to form a perfunctory “Good Evening Ren,” before strong hands gripped his shoulders and slammed him against the wall. Hux’s back screamed in response, already sore from a long day of maintaining perfectly upright posture. Tonight was not the night for a lengthy takedown.

Kylo invaded Hux’s mouth, forcing his tongue too far, too wet, too fast. Hux captured the offender with his teeth. He delighted in the yelp of surprise Kylo made as his eyes flew open. When Hux released his jaw, Kylo pulled back, slightly dazed.

Hux took this opportunity to reverse their positions and pressed his lithe body against Kylo’s solid form. He reached up and wrapped a hand around the front of Kylo’s neck. It was a firm squeeze, not enough to choke, just hard enough to make a point. He always liked the way Kylo’s skin whitened where the tips of his fingers dug in.

Kylo slouched into the grip, trying to increase the pressure. Hux indulged him by constricting his hand, and he could feel Kylo’s pulse hammer the harder he squeezed. Kylo’s eyes were shut, the dark lashes fluttering shadows against his cheeks. A few drops of sweat beaded on his brow and threatened to drip down to land on Hux’s forearm. He held his breath, even though Hux was gripping the sides of his neck more than the front. By the time Hux’s shoulder cramped and he released him, Kylo was shaking with effort. Hux could almost smell his arousal.

This time, when Kylo opened his eyes, Hux was pleased to see they were imbued with a distant, almost dreamy quality. His reactions were momentarily slowed, so Hux took his arm and uttered, “Bed,” as he dragged him in the general direction. Kylo shook off his grip, presumably ruffled at being led like a child. They stripped as they went, and a trail of garments littered the path to the bedroom. Hux, while now used to the sight, still took the time to glance back and admire Kylo’s thick thighs, flexing as he followed.

A few feet short of their ultimate goal, they tumbled to the ground. Hux straddled him, knees high on either side of his chest, legs protesting at the wide spread Kylo’s broadness necessitated. He pinned Kylo, one wrist in each hand. The pressure caused the blue veins on the underside of his arms to bulge, and Hux felt the urge to bite at them, rip them open, watch crimson fluid flow over pristine skin. His cock pulsed at the thought, and he shifted his pelvis forward to trap the hardness against Kylo’s sternum. As he ground down, Hux watched Kylo writhe in frustration, not allowed to touch, not allowed any relief at all. He looked forward to the rug burn that would soon cover Kylo’s back.

Hux let go of one of Kylo’s wrists and reached to gather it together with the other. Kylo struggled against the grip, more performance than brawn. Then, he moved his head up at just the wrong moment. Hux was reaching to bring his forearm against Kylo’s throat, and the point of his elbow connected perfectly with Kylo’s eye socket instead. A shout of pain tore through the room.

Hux rolled off Kylo, cringing as he watched him contract into a lump, head in hands. His elbow smarted, so he could only imagine what Kylo was feeling. Though he was high on endorphins, the unexpected, excruciating pain was obviously not welcome. Hux tried to comfort Kylo and pet his sweat dampened hair, but he retreated from the touch with a turn of his head. Tonight’s tryst was over, so Hux went to the refresher and retrieved a cool, wet cloth.

The next time he saw Kylo was two days hence. The disastrous nature of their previous engagement appeared to have left Kylo seriously frustrated, and his alternating attempts to paw at and offend Hux meant he was willing to risk an impromptu rendezvous. They’d stolen down a disused passage and holed away in a dingy supply closet. After a secure click indicated that the door had sealed behind them, Kylo removed his helmet, and Hux felt the cramped room become a vacuum as his jaw slowly dropped.

The black eye had blossomed spectacularly. It was the most beautiful thing Hux had ever seen.

“Oh,” was the only word Hux could think to form. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to worship it. He kept his hands fisted behind his back. Remorse and arousal warred within him, and the twinge he felt in his chest fed the heat in his belly.

The top lid was uninjured, but the eye itself was bloodshot, and deep purple colored the bottom lid to the crease of the socket. Beyond that ridge, the dark hue feathered to a lighter red, then yellow. It was a little swollen, and when Kylo blinked, it took a fraction of a second longer to reopen the injured eye. Hux felt himself thicken when he noticed that handicap. It had become suddenly stifling. He swallowed, preparing to speak.

“I’ve had much worse,” Kylo interrupted, shrugging to brush off the impending apology. He stooped to scrape his stubble along a clean-shaven cheek, and Hux’s comlink blared, a tinny voice announcing, “General Hux, you’re needed on the flight deck.”

Their mutual groan of frustration resonated in the close space, but Hux fumbled to find the device and make his response, always dutiful.  

That evening, twice denied in a single week, and Kylo unavailable, Hux indulged himself. He laid on his bed, two pillows propping him into a position halfway between seated and reclining. He’d pulled the sheets down far enough to expose his cock and rucked his undershirt up to his ribs. He kept his legs covered though, otherwise they got cold. A tube of lubricant and pile of tissues lay within easy reach; he was going to take the time to do this right.

His feet tensed beneath the sheets as he started slow, lightly circling his cock with a slick hand. The bed was firm, and there wasn’t much give as he rocked his hips back and forth. He reached with the other hand to cup his balls, rolling them gently. Kylo’s bruised face still burned behind his eyelids as he pumped his fist, setting a lazy pace. He tried to push it out of his mind, to focus on how soft thighs would feel in his hands as he spread them wide, but his rhythm slowed, disinterested.

The wounds Hux had inflicted on Kylo had been superficial up until that point. Scratches and bruises in easily concealed locations that quickly faded, no lasting marks. But to look at that face and see the grim bruise painted in vivid colors, it was too much.

He teased the head of his cock as Kylo’s face returned to mind, morphing. He thought of swollen split lips, and how Kylo would wince even at the lightest kiss. Pre-come pearled at his slit, and he spread it with his thumb. He imagined the slippery crunch he’d feel as his fist connected, leaving a bloody broken nose. Kylo would be a mess, coated in tears, blood, and mucus. Begging him to stop. Begging him for more. The tendons in Hux’s forearm protruded in firm ridges as his hand flew along his length. He was so close.

In his mind he was holding a vibroblade to the corner of that pretty pout. He told Kylo he was going to ruin him, that no one else would ever want him, not now. The thought pushed him over the edge, and he scrambled for a tissue just in time to stifle his ejaculate. His cock pulsed, hot in his hand, as he continued through the hazy bliss of the aftershocks. He panted, ginger locks plastered to his forehead, and milked a few last drops, then wadded the damp tissue into a ball. It landed short of the waste receptacle, but he didn’t care.

He felt a little queasy. Drawing his knees to his chest, he turned to rest on his side, sticky face against the pillow. The sheets were still tangled around his knees, but his sweaty skin was beginning to prickle in the cool air, so he jerked them up to cover his shoulders, hunkering down, tempted to pull them all the way over his head. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, or rip it off forcefully; he wasn’t sure.

He closed his eyes and thought of the most beautiful thing he’d not yet seen—Kylo’s face, destroyed. 


	2. Chapter 2

The datapad he held illuminated his face, and the prominence of his jaw glowed sharp against his high collar. He stared at the screen. His hand was frozen, an index finger extended but forgotten. His eyes moved over words and figures, acknowledging their shape but not comprehending their meaning, returning once more to the start of the page, symbols blurred into a grey mass.

Hux’s eyelid was twitching; it had been all day. It was a little vibration, niggling, almost imperceptible if he was properly distracted. He was sure no one noticed. In fact, he’d managed to forget about it entirely for two hours earlier. Now, his shift ended, it seemed the vibration had taken hold of his eye and burrowed itself deep into his skull.

The only time he’d seen Kylo in the past week was during their debrief with Snoke. His face had looked fifteen percent jaundiced. The smear of bright yellow surrounding his eye socket didn’t make Hux feel guilty; it made him sad. It was too cheerful, as if the body was taunting him as it healed itself. It was absorbing that beautiful bruise, taking it away, and Hux wanted to keep it. He felt cheated that mere minutes were all the time he’d been allotted to witness it in the height of its glory. Still, the bruise had managed to impress itself upon him in a way that he was incapable of forgetting.

Setting the datapad aside, he reached to rub his eyes. They were overheated and made little squelching noises when his dug the heels of his hands into them. He’d been avoiding Kylo, especially when others were present. He took circuitous routes down maintenance corridors, wasting his own precious time rather than risking areas of the ship he knew Kylo frequented. But the thought of Kylo’s gaunt face rarely left him, and his resolve was wearing thin.  

He stretched his thin arms above his head and rolled one shoulder forward, then the other. The fitted nature of his uniform impeded full movement, but the snap of his sternum and crack of his neck released a little tension. Slumping back into his chair, he tentatively extended a hand toward the discarded datapad. As a personal rule, Hux didn’t like to engage with others when he was nearing sleep. Too often he’d regretted the vulnerability laid bare as a result of exhausted defenses.

He sent Kylo a message. “Tomorrow, 21:00,” was the whole of it.

Hux felt needy and pathetic. He’d likely hate himself come morning. This was the first time Kylo had not initiated contact by escalating his misdeeds to an unconscionable degree. Hux felt control slipping from his grasp. Up until now, he’d attempted to make this solely about reining in Kylo, a simple extension of his ample authority. What it was becoming, he wasn’t sure.

The next day, he mentally cringed upon waking at the previous night’s desperation. His eye still twitched incessantly, but it was joined by anticipation fluttering inside his chest cavity. His skin felt electric, and he smiled as he watched his hands transform from willowy, thin things to a powerful force when he slid them inside the leather of his gloves.

He hadn’t received a response by Kylo, but he never did. On the bridge of the ship he was able to focus intently, but once he had been relieved from his duty, anticipation segued into anxiety.

When he returned to his rooms, he was struck by a sudden need to carefully construct his tableau. His sleeping quarters were bereft of personal effects, so all he could do was take away rather than add. A drab, grey quilt topped the bed, standard issue, so he stripped it along with the other bedclothes, leaving only the fitted sheet. The sterility of the environment belied his less-than-tender intentions.

He withdrew a small trunk from the drawers beneath his bed and shoved the wadded ball of bedding in its place. The trunk was made of a nondescript black metal, but it was well fortified. Hux entered a code into the keypad on its face and with a whirr the lock released. He rifled through the contents and withdrew two items, then set them aside, and made sure to re-secure the lid. After he was finished, he pushed the trunk into the corner, out of the line of sight.

The first item he picked up was a thin, black rod about three feet long. The handle fit neatly into his hand, and the end had a curve to it, broken in but not yet broken. He placed it on the mattress, making sure to align it precisely parallel with the edge of the bed. The set of manacles stayed on the floor as Hux undressed.

His hands were a little shaky as he fumbled to unclasped his belt buckle and pulled his jacket off, hanging it in the closet with care. The rest of his uniform followed until he was left in a thin undershirt and pants. He assessed his appearance in the mirror, turning to observe himself in profile and smoothing his orange hair back into place. He felt self-conscious about his narrow frame and, on second thought, put his gloves back on, clenching his hands into fists and feeling the tug and give of the supple leather.

The sound of the door sliding open startled Hux; he’d lost track of time. Kylo, unhelmed and more disheveled than usual, strode through, not bothering with simple courtesies like using the intercom to notify Hux of his arrival. Hux looked at his face and was disappointed to see that no vestiges of the injury remained.

Kylo set the visor aside and shrugged off his cloak, leaving it in a pile near the door. Hux schooled his face and stood in parade rest, letting Kylo come to him. He did, but when Kylo moved to grip the bare flesh of his forearm, Hux stopped him with a hand to his chest. He could feel his lungs rapidly expand and contract beneath the layers of cloth.

“No, Ren. None of that tonight,” he remonstrated and glanced at the manacles lying at their feet. Kylo followed his gaze and took note of the two thick metal rings connected by a substantial chain. He looked back to Hux with an eyebrow quirked.

“I don’t want any accidents this time,” Hux clarified.

“You seemed to enjoy the last one.” Kylo’s lips twitched, but his eyes narrowed. He managed to achieve a look halfway between a smirk and a glower.

“Accidents are by their very nature unpredictable. I’m not guaranteed a desirable outcome in the future.”

“You know I could just break those,” Kylo chuckled.

“But you won’t, will you?” Condescension imbued Hux’s clipped tone, making him sound more malevolent than usual. He dropped his hand and bent to pick up the restraints. The movement revealed the edge of the mattress, and when he righted himself, he saw that Kylo’s eyes were trained on the cane, filled with a mix of trepidation and lust.

“Intentional bruising is vastly preferable.” When Hux spoke, Kylo quickly averted his gaze, like he’d been caught in some nefarious act.

Hux took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed. Kylo gave him a quizzical look and Hux gestured with his hand as if he were sweeping aside a pest. “Strip.”

Kylo gracelessly wrestled out of his clothing and shoved each garment into a pile with his foot. Hux enjoyed the view and drank in every stretch and flex. His skin was honey-warm, and Hux thought about all the other colors he would paint him. When Kylo finished, Hux nodded for him to come forward. Kylo moved to straddle Hux’s lap, but Hux shifted to the side and tilted Kylo so his chest rested against the foot of the bed.

Kylo waited with his head dropped as Hux gathered the manacles and removed the locking pins from each. The metal was cold in his hands, and Kylo flinched when the first cuff was secured around his wrist. Hux stood to guide Kylo up onto the bed, stretching his hands over his head. The mattress creaked and the muscles in Kylo’s shoulders rippled as he spread himself out, but he was so tall he didn’t need to stretch far before Hux could loop the chain through a notch at the head of the bed.

Hux stood back to admire the prone form. Kylo unclothed was far from a blank canvas. His back displayed a mélange of scars in various states of healing, some still nearly red and others faintly pinkish white. One in particular stood out, a craggy thing that wrapped from Kylo’s shoulder down toward his spine, the result of an obviously serious injury. Possessive rage coursed through Hux as he envisioned whomever had left the mark.

He stooped to cup the flesh of Kylo’s ass, and Kylo rolled his hips shamelessly against the bed, letting out an uncharacteristically breathy moan. Hux could feel a hint on heat through his gloves as he kneaded the firm muscle. He drew his hand back and brought it down with a resounding smack. Kylo jolted in response, the twin globes of his ass tensing, although he made no sound. While he didn’t possess Kylo’s strength, Hux certainly was a capable spanker, and he was heavy on the follow-through. 

The warmup he provided was more for his pleasure than Kylo’s. He wanted to see the lovely rose flush spread across Kylo’s skin before he turned him black and blue. I wasn’t like a hand warmup would do much to mitigate what was coming anyway. He aimed to bruise him, badly.

As he continued, Kylo’s skin changed texture, smooth expanses becoming dimpled. Kylo squirmed against the bed, letting out gasps with each strike. He held his breath between impact, and Hux wondered how long he would persist without oxygen as he let his hand hover in mid-air. Once he’d peppered each side with a dozen slaps, Hux let up. He ran an appreciative hand over the pinked skin and watched the rhythmic movement of Kylo’s hips, then stood to fish the cane from where it had rolled onto the floor.

Hux measured the strike distance from his position before he started. This was the only time Hux had been thankful for the narrow width of his bed; it gave him perfect reach. Kylo craned his neck to get a better look at the hand holding the cane, but Hux harrumphed, “face toward the wall.” Kylo complied.

The cane whistled through the air and struck flesh. Kylo panted a whine and his shoulders seized, twisting in their sockets because of the way his arms were bound, shoulder blades protruding like wings from his supple back. The tip had wrapped around his hip, so Hux took half a step back. Hux mentally counted each strike, up to twenty. After welts started to cross one another, Kylo’s legs kicked involuntarily in response. His breath was a harsh wheeze and his hands clenched and unclenched in their bindings. Signs of stress, but Hux wanted more.

“Can you take another set?” Hux checked in, voice deepening with lust. He’d hardened in his pants and reached down to squeeze his length while he waited for a response.

After a brief pause to comprehend the question, Kylo grunted his assent. Hux determined another score of strikes was appropriate. For the next five minutes, the only sounds in the room were the whoosh of the cane, followed by the smack of flesh and a choking gasp. Hux allowed Kylo ample time to anticipate each strike. He laughed when Kylo tensed at the rustling noise that resulted as he shifted his engorged cock, heavy in his pants. Hux struck hard at an already tender spot, and Kylo shouted and contracted his maladroit limbs.

By the end of the second set, Kylo was shaking and heaving wet breaths. His hips had stilled, having lost his erection long ago. Sweat drenched his forehead, and his hair hung limp across his face. Hux set the cane down to admire his work. The area at the crest of his left cheek had borne the brunt of several strikes, and a black lump had formed as bruises ran in to one another. The right side was slightly less damaged, but still crossed with a flurry of red and white welts. Around his right hip there were a few areas of broken skin, where the cane tip had wrapped.  

Hux sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his gloves off, letting them drop to the floor. He wanted to feel his handiwork. Kylo shifted closer to where Hux’s weight sagged into the mattress, but when he tried to turn his head, Hux snapped his fingers and pointed toward the wall, treating Kylo like a misbehaving hound. He let his fingers ghost, feather light, across the darkest welt. When Kylo shrunk away from the touch with a low whine, he unbuttoned his pants.

Hux bunched his underwear low enough to pull out his leaking cock. He was so close. He didn’t risk stroking until he had positioned himself over Kylo’s body. Then, eye’s locked on bruises and welts, he watched Kylo shudder as he depressed his thumb into the blackened contusion. It took only a few pumps, spreading his pre-come down his shaft, before he was painting Kylo’s ass with hot fluid.

Lost in the moment, Hux husked a threat and a plea, “You’re going to let me ruin you, aren’t you?”

Kylo appeared to have rested enough to regain interest, and in response to Hux’s utterance, he rutted against the bed, come dripping down his bruised cheeks.

“Such a pretty picture,” Hux whispered, a miasma of tenderness encroaching on in his post-orgasmic bliss. He folded his legs and shifted to stretch out beside Kylo, reaching up to release his hands from the manacles. The hard metal had left his wrists reddened in a few places, but there wasn’t any major damage. Hux rubbed at the tired wrists, simultaneously soothing and irritating.

“You can look at me now.”

Kylo turned, stretching his head far to the left before settling it back on the bed. His eyes were dry, and Hux felt a little disappointment at that. Kylo was a warrior who’d been through much worse; it was unreasonable to expect him to cry from a caning, but Hux had still fantasized about tear track dried on those cheeks.

He pushed sticky locks from Kylo’s eyes and ran a thumb along the now healed socket. Kylo closed his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch. Hux tried to squash the fondness kindling in him for Kylo, his human canvas.

Righting himself, Hux groped for the console beside his bed. He rifled blindly through the contents before feeling a textured box of the right dimensions. A cigarra was an indulgence he partook in but rarely; however, this seemed a worthy occasion. Lighting up, he sucked in the pungent fumes and gazed at Kylo. In the stillness he noted that his eyelid had finally ceased its incessant twitching.

With his head turned to rest cheek against mattress, Kylo’s neck was on display. It rose, powerful, from broad shoulders, yet managed to taper gracefully into that absurd jawline. Holding the cigarra with his right hand, he ran his left index finger back and forth along Kylo’s jaw. Kylo raised his pleading brown eyes to lock with Hux’s.

Hux took a deep drag and exhaled a stream of smoke, billowing in Kylo’s direction, before acknowledging Kylo’s needs. “Go ahead, touch yourself. You’ve been rutting against the bed like a slut half the night.”  

Kylo flushed and shifted partially onto his side, an awkward position that allowed him to snake a hand down to his cock but avoided abrading his bruises. Kylo’s eyes screwed closed and concentration lined his forehead as his hand pumped.

“You’re so good like this,” Hux praised, encouraging Kylo in his efforts. It was almost true.

Although beautiful in their own way, the welts covering Kylo didn’t hold the same potency for Hux that his black eye had. Kylo didn’t have to face them each time he looked in the mirror, instead he’d need to contort himself to get a clear look. They’d only make it hard for him to sit for a day or two, and after that he’d likely forget they were there. After all, Kylo’s body was already heavily scarred. His face was nearly pristine.

Hux thought about pressing the smoldering tip of his cigarra into hollow Kylo’s fine cheekbone. Imagined the smell of searing flesh, the way Kylo’s eyes would flash open in shock before he even knew what was happening. Kylo would surely scream his cries this time. When he drew the cigarra back, little bits of flesh would follow. The raw pit would ooze. And it would scar, ugly and livid. Hux would make sure of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Shall we talk about other things that could be tagged "erotic violence" on [Tumblr](http://kegareta.tumblr.com/)?


End file.
